Stages of Grief
by Graceful Rage
Summary: [Spoilers for Book Nine] The IceWing plague has taken its toll, leaving the entire kingdom in shock... but how exactly does the recent tragedy affect Icicle?


The queen of the IceWings was dead.

It would've been a lie to say it was the last thing Icicle expected. Even as the foundation of IceWing society shattered around her with each ragged cough and piteous moan, her mind could still notice how most of the nobles- Queen Glacier especially- tended to have the worst symptoms. In fact, the constant reminder of the plague probably helped her reach the conclusion that the queen's time was almost up.

However, saying that Icicle wasn't surprised by the news was a different story altogether.

"What did you say?" Icicle managed to rasp out. Did she hear the messenger right? No, it was probably the plague; first it messed with her throat and now it was messing with her ears. Queen Glacier couldn't be dead after just three days. By the Great Ice Dragon, she was the _queen_ of the _entire tribe_. Wasn't she supposed to be tough and all-powerful and the most powerful of all IceWings? Why else would Icicle have trained so hard for a royal challenge? It was ridiculous. There was absolutely no way Glacier was-

"I'm sorry, Princess Icicle," the messenger bowed his head- she swore that if he bowed any lower he would be sinking into the snow. "Queen Glacier is dead."

The truth sank in like a talonprint in the snow.

"...And my parents?" Icicle inquired. Her body wobbled, but not because of the fever. "How are they doing?"

"Not good. Getting worse." A fit of extreme coughing.

"And what of Glacier's daughters?"

The IceWing messenger, too, wobbled slightly, tail hanging askew like a mutated twig in the snow. "Nothing either. It seems they will soon follow her." Dark bloodshot eyes barely glanced at hers. "I'm sorry… It's all ov-" He instantly cut off, wheezing heavily for air. The word was left unfinished, as the messenger then stumbled back out into the palace hallways, leaving behind a dumbstruck Icicle.

 _Glacier. Dead. And her daughters near that same doorstep._

If she had the energy, Icicle would've flown straight out the window and done backflips through the cold air.

No queen meant for an easy throne to inherit. And without a challenge blocking her way, all she had to do was waltz up to the empty throne and, poof, enter the reign of Queen Icicle of the IceWings. The IceWing princess felt the line of a smile crack across her fever-stiffened face. Already she could imagine the soft ermine furs lining the throne underneath her talons. The very goal she'd worked for since hatching was just within reach.

And then came the disappointment.

All the years she spent training- the countless hours spent honing her claw-to-claw combat, the multiple battles on the frontlines in the Great War, the early mornings she spent sparring with dragons older than her, just for the sake of preparing for the epic challenge between her and Glacier, were for nothing.

Icicle let out a ragged sigh. It was such a bummer. She'd been looking forward to the day of the royal challenge, when she could bring out all her strength against none other than the queen herself. She'd always imagined it as one of the most brutal challenges to ever stain the history of royal skirmishes: deadly frostbreath colliding with equally deadly frostbreath, blue blood spilling with every serrated slash and powerful bite, and the roars of battle reverberating throughout the palace. Nonetheless, the battle would end with princess overpowering the mighty queen, ending the age of Glacier and beginning the era of Queen Icicle.

Unfortunately those dreams of a grand challenge would never happen because, y'know, Glacier just _had_ to go kick the bucket before Icicle could get her talons around her throat. There go all the history scrolls about the dragon who made her rise to power and became one of the most cunning queens in all of Pyrrhia.

A mighty cough interrupted the princess' thoughts. Icicle flexed her talons, trying to focus back on her image of grandeur. At least all that training wasn't for nothing. Training for Glacier's demise had molded her into quite the formidible dragonet. Sure, she wasn't as strong as Hailstorm, but she was still someone even fully grown dragons should stay wary of. And hey, it would still make her a strong queen. Strength like this was only expected from an heir to the IceWing throne.

An heir to the IceWing throne.

 _"Only sisters, daughters and nieces can challenge the queen for the throne; cousins cannot" Tundra said. "That is why you must take the challenge before your own cousins do"._

...Would Icicle even be the first in line for the throne now that her aunt was dead? Because... wouldn't it make more sense for the title of queen to be transferred to a more _closer_ relative, like one of her daughters? And... and if one of them inherited the throne- and Icicle knew either of them gladly would- then that would make them the new queen. And if someone like Snowfall became queen, then only a sister, daughter or a niece to her could challenge them for the throne.

Icicle was none of these.

A jolt of realization hit her with the force of a blizzard.

She could never be queen, not now. Not when one of Glacier's daughters was at the brink of becoming queen. If that happened, then that meant all those years of learning both the ways of royalty and battle truly were for nothing. She didn't need to have NightWing powers to know there wouldn't be a future of her as the queen of the IceWings.

Icicle could already see the look on Tundra and Narwhal's faces- if they weren't too worn out from the fever. She could see the stabbing disappointment on their snouts, the anger of their once full-of-potential daughter ending up a total failure, the look they were supposed to give to _Winter_ and not her!

"No," she choked. The fever felt more terrible than ever. _I'm not that useless walrus disguised as an IceWing prince. I'm not a failure!_ A sudden anger welled up inside her, urging her the lash out and claw at the nearest living thing- she probably would've done it, if the sickness didn't deprive her of energy.

She was NOT the family disappointment. She was Icicle: daughter of Tundra and Narwhal. Niece of Queen Glacier and one of the most fearsome IceWings to hatch in her generation. THIS COULD NOT BE HAPPENING! There was _no way_ she climbed all the way to the First Circle just to become a laughing stock.

...No. She wasn't even _in_ First Circle right now- or anywhere close to the first three. She still remembered Glacier's stare as she was escorted through the halls of the palace. Icicle remembered herself being chastised for breaking the Jade Mountain Truce, and that was about it; she wasn't really listening. What was on her mind at the time was her punishment which, miraculously, hadn't been a quick execution. However, she had a very good idea of what it was actually going to be since they were headed to the courtyard.

 _Well FINE,_ she'd thought. _No problem. I can easily claw my way back up the rankings in two years. How far did they drop me? Third Circle? Fifth?_

Her name lay in the last place of the Seventh Circle.

Now that she looked back on it, it was a fitting place for her, really. Did she even _look_ like someone who looked worthy of challenging the queen, or even being in First Circle? The memory of wandering through the abandoned NightWing volcano, bleeding and burned and just all around feeling terrible, stayed fresh in her mind. The week she'd stayed in the Ice Kingdom, her homeland, had helped, but the literal scars of her torment remained. Although the blood had long been washed off, scratches still littered her glassy scales and the lava had left nasty burns and blisters across her body; on one spot of her wing the scales had fused together. If she looked close in the reflection of the polar water, she could still see dark circles underneath her eyes from lack of sleep, and the fact she needed to spend every hour to raise her rank wasn't helping. Neither was the fever.

Low-ranked, dirty and full of failure... Did that really sound like an IceWing queen? Maybe Snowfall was doing Icicle a favor by taking her mother's place as the next queen. The disheveled princess really didn't deserve to become queen.

Snowfall...

For a moment, Icicle's suffering disappeared as she lifted her head. Even as sickness ravaged the entire kingdom, Snowfall had somehow managed to keep her rank in first place, probably because the elders didn't even care to change them in the three days since the plague hit. Despite that, Snowfall was severely weakened by fever and, if what the messenger said was correct, already had one talon in the grave.

"The Diamond Trial," Icicle muttered, her claw traced against the icy floor. Even though Glacier was dead and the royal challenge Icicle dreamed of waging would never happen, there might be another way for Icicle to get into the history scrolls.

Forget all the imagined stories of an IceWing princess enduring years of battle training in order to kill her queen and become one of the most cunning rulers in Pyrrhia. The tale of an IceWing princess with the whole world against them, but becoming the leader the tribe needed to take them out of their darkest hour, was a much better story.

She would participate in the Diamond Trial against Snowfall... And Icicle already knew she would win against the ill-ravaged dragonet. Then the tribe would _have_ to listen to her once she regained first place. They'd see her as a dragon who overcame the plague, and would provide strength for them to find a cure.

And if the whole tribe was too boo-hooey at Glacier's death to make the preparations to the trial... Well, maybe the former queen's daughters would die in a little "accident". No one would point claws at her, not with the plague muddling their minds, and they would blame it for the princess' deaths too. Either way Icicle would be queen.

Forget wiping out what little progress she'd gained in the last week. Forget the fact she looked like a mangled wolf. Forget the orders from her parents to "rest" and "not exert herself" when they really didn't want their poor Seventh Circle dragonet walking around in public. It wasn't fair that Snowfall was about to inherit the throne without lifting a talon while Icicle, who'd honed her skills in both battle training and on the frontlines, ended up suffering every punishment imaginable in the end. Tomorrow, the tribe would be mourning the death of another royal family member while she sat atop the IceWing throne. The position she'd been fighting half a decade for would finally be hers, even if the path to it was bloodstained. Because if she didn't take matters into her own talons now, she would die a worthless Seventh Circle dragonet, and all she'd been through would be for nothing.

And that would make her nothing too.

* * *

 **Oh my gawd it feels so good to write again! *collapses***

 **So... that was "Stages of Grief". Hope you enjoyed it. Sorry if it sucks; It's been a long time since I've done anything remotely related to writing. I actually wanted to get this out about a week earlier, but I have a procrastination problem. I blame the Miitopia demo and kittens...**

 **Anyways, I was kind of wondering who the next IceWing queen was gonna be, and this entire fanfic was my thought process of it but with some of Icicle's thoughts thrown in. Honestly, I hope Icicle doesn't become the next queen, since her first order would probably be to wipe out the entire NightWing tribe or... something (not that Snowfall's any better but, hey, a smug queen would be interesting).**

 **Thanks for reading! I am planning on writing a lot of WoF related stuff in the future, so keep an eye out! :D**


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